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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29455155">howl</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiden/pseuds/kiden'>kiden</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hades (Video Game 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Playing fast and loose, lore unspecific, prose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:21:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>769</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29455155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiden/pseuds/kiden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ahead, on the edge of a cliff, her windswept hair as brown as the earth, face as lovely as all things that grow and stretch towards the sun, the Arcadian Princess stands and waits. Every curve and angle of her body a star-point, cut into the sky, a woman and a bear. The untamed wilderness that lives in her that blossoms in Artemis, too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Artemis/Callisto (Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore), Artemis/Callisto (Hades Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>howl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/gifts">sartiebodyshots</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is unbetaed. idk where it takes place tbh</p><p>ilu happy valentine’s day!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She runs. By her father, Zeus, there’s nothing that compares to the thrill of it. The grass is wet with morning dew under her feet, the underbrush thick, soft in the same way Apollo’s clouds are soft. The green blood of the woods and the dark, muddy dirt stains her skin up to the knee. Artemis is free for a moment, one long moment measured in days and weeks, long years that pass with her bow slung across her back and the heavy weight of the arrows at her hip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hunt is best in the spring. When the earth opens up by Gaia’s will, growing, blooming, birthing new life, more lush and green with every rainfall like the sweat on Leto’s forehead, the hollow of her throat, as she pushed Apollo into the world after Artemis, poetry and light and music. A woman’s work; Demeter’s hands plunged into the dirt, the warm fires Hestia keeps burning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Artemis runs with a hundred time-forged women and spring-time girls at her back, bows drawn, painted, glowing in the moonlight, wild hearted and made of the wind. They move silent through the woods and in every clearing, under the named, storied stars, each howl their own prayers of thanks to Selene. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moon is bright tonight. Makes a second day out of the darkness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Artemis runs until none can keep up with her, breaking off for their own hunts, their own company, to drink and bed and tomorrow to start anew in her name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ahead, on the edge of a cliff, her windswept hair as brown as the earth, face as lovely as all things that grow and stretch towards the sun, the Arcadian Princess stands and waits. Every curve and angle of her body a star-point, cut into the sky, a woman and a bear. The untamed wilderness that lives in her that blossoms in Artemis, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Artemis does not run anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Callisto touches her. It’s familiar - not the way a worshipper should touch a Goddess, and if anyone has before Artemis has never heard a story of anything so bold. Her skin sings for it. Her body remembers no oath under Callisto’s attention; it sways towards her, the things that are lovey, that stretch out towards the sun. Artemis feels the warmth of Callisto’s hands, the moon driven tide that lives within her, the ebb and flow of life that pulls and retreats from the moral heart beating in her chest. She calls to Artemis, the way she always has, with eyes that are as clear as sparkling river water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, what a joy it would be to hear Callisto sigh Artemis’ name. Worship of a different kind. To feel her tremble against her own body, to cry out, to howl, to whisper her prayers breathlessly into the shell of Artemis’ ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To feel the heat of her skin, sun-kissed, kissed, flushed with pleasure, underhand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You found me,” Callisto says, and takes Artemis’ hands in her own. “Shall we play again? This time perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> will hunt </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Artemis laughs, and sweet-smelling gold and white flowers unfold around both their feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What will you do with me, should you catch your prey?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tempt you, I’m afraid,” Callisto says thoughtfully. “A temptation I am blasphemously running towards as well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come for me,” Artemis whispers. “Find me and if you were to kiss me, I should think, there would be no purer thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Artemis takes their hands, Callisto’s still wrapped around her own, and brings between her breasts, down her heaving chest and to the sensitive, soft skin of her belly. Teases at a scorching heat just a little lower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Callisto blushes. A breathtaking sight, pink and purple and blue in the cold nighttime light. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have be damned to Hades for it,” she says, but her fingers brush meaningfully along Artemis’ bare skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would cut you into pieces, bright shards of starlight, and place you up in the heavens. Whwre everyone could see your beauty but I alone could touch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Callisto laughs, and Artemis joins her, and there was no music before this moment. It’s made in the cadence of their happiness alone. She let’s Castillo go and turns always.  Artemis runs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will go gladly!” Callisto hollers after her, her voice carrying through the woods along every beach and stem and silken, unfurling petal. And Artemis knows it will echo there still, even when Castillo is gone, even when when she herself is forgotten to time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As long as there are trees and untamed beasts and places to run under clear, endless skies. As long as the hunt remains. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
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</p>
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